something carved out

The sky was gray this morning, but I conjured him in color. The shape of his shape. The taste of his taste. The lines of lust drawn red by faceless faces in placeless places.

This morning it was he and I. His fingertips tracing my lips, his fingernails between my thighs, his full arousal on my sheets. I imagined him nestled deep inside me like a dark perversion, the most erotic part of my shadow.

I feel it now. I see it now. So gentle, this faceless creature, so warm. Beast or man? Man or beast? Beast of a man curled like a comma in my hand.

I rose earlier this morning and rolled around a bit before finally settling into my routine. I was slower this morning, more intentional. His words were the hands on my body. They roamed freely with more curiosity. They squeezed and tickled and traced. They marveled at soft flesh and sore muscles.

It was quite the erotic experience. I felt him, I felt me, I felt myself come undone differently.

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